countdown(to the)downfall
by Taywen
Summary: The Architect is not a benevolent creator. The seeds of the Trustees' downfalls are sown long before the creation of the Will. 100 word drabbles. Pre-series.
1. seven

She does not often venture to the Lower House. She cares for the mortals that are living, struggling, still being recorded. Dry recitations of the details of now-vanished existences are worthless.

Nevertheless, he is the top administrator of the Lower House and he works tirelessly to maintain the relics of the things she used to love.

The surprised look on Her face when he shows Her the meticulously organized records is a slap.

"You are hardworking," She tells him, blinking. What he hears is _your effort is unnecessary; futile_.

He is hardworking? As if She had made him anything but.


	2. six

He waits with baited breath, wondering if perhaps this time She will show approval for his work. He might lack the mortal capacity to create, but he can modify-improve upon-pre-established designs.

"I have seen the likeness of this before," She sighs, bored. "Your decision to switch the silver with platinum does not make it unique."

He flinches. "I will attempt-"

"Do not bother; I am sure I will have seen some earlier version of whatever you recreate."

Perhaps if he finds it before She can, and modifies it to his own liking, then She will appreciate his work.


	3. five

She does not know what, precisely, it is to eat. She sometimes accompanies Her when She travels to the Secondary Realms on the Border Sea, and she has seen mortals eating, but food is not necessary for Denizens.

"Eat this," She tells her, holding a round, red fruit out.

She takes it, although she does not know if Denizens can eat. She raises the apple to her lips and takes a bite.

"So you can eat," She says, thoughtfully. As if this was another of Her experiments.

She does not care; the juice lingers in her mouth, delicious, foreign, addicting.


	4. four

"Did you know," She begins, though She knows very well that he does not know, "mortal children play at war with toy soldiers."

He is the only other being on the ridge beside her, overlooking the battle. From this height, Her soldiers look like little more than toys.

The screams of the Nithlings and the shouts of Her soldiers are not childish, improvised sound effects, however.

Later, after She has grown bored of Her toy soldiers and left the Great Maze, he walks through the ranks of the wounded. Her words linger in his mind; his hands clench into fists.


	5. three

"You Denizens do not feel as mortals do," She remarks idly, poring over the record of Her latest favourite.

As if that is through any fault of her own. As if she-as if all Denizens-are anything but exactly what She created.

And though it is no fault of her own, she wonders what it is like to feel as mortals do. To live and die with such fierce, expiring passion. To strive for finite happiness, and be satisfied with that.

Perhaps if Her creations could feel as mortals do, She would not want have grown tired of them.


	6. two

"You will manage the Upper House," She says.

She is the first Denizen that She created from Nothing. She has obeyed Her every whim; she is the first Denizen and she has been with Her the longest. She recalls the joy She expressed when She discovered the mortals.

Why, then, send her away from the Gardens?

Is she no longer good enough for Her? Her son is amusing, she will admit, but he is capricious and willful. Surely She can see that. She must have Her own reasons for sending her away.

For choosing Her son over Her first companion.


	7. one

"You are the first," She tells Her son, smiling. It is an empty sort of smile, but the boy does not yet know enough about existence to realize this.

The boy hears _you are the best_. Everything that comes afterward will be superfluous. Unnecessary. All that is needed is Her first son.

The boy smiles in return, ignoring the frown on his father's face. "Yes, Mother." He takes Her hand, too distracted by the sights of the Gardens blooming about them to notice the frown that She gives their linked hands.

One day, he knows, this will all be his.


End file.
